Sniper Alley
by Raivis-Latvijas
Summary: Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. August 12th, 1994. Ulica Zmaja od Bosne. "Sniper Alley". This was his city. His home. His heart. His war. Zlatko Pilav, the representation of Bosnia; this was his country's capital. Sarajevo. OC Bosnia. No pairings. T for blood, violence, sensitive subjects.


**A/n: Listen to Buscity or the Main Theme Song from the Cry Of Fear soundtrack while reading. Thank you.**

**xxxxx**

_Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina_

_August 12__th__, 1994_

_Ulica Zmaja od Bosne_

"_Sniper Alley"_

This was his city.

His home.

His heart.

His war.

Zlatko Pilav, the representation of Bosnia; this was his country's capital. Sarajevo.

The street is unwelcoming. Blood stains the ground where innocent people had been shot from the many snipers that were scattered along the main road. Civilians know not to walk it; they would get shot. It is easy to lose your life here, in the chaos of war.

But nothing deters Zlatko. His dark brown hair blows in the wind, tattered clothing ruffling. His calloused and bandaged hands are shoved into his pockets, balled into tight fists. His face is expressionless, but his pale green eyes show how he truly feels inside. He feels hopeless to all that is around him. He feels like a child with no parents to guide. A blind man with no cane or seeing-eye dog. And yet, he walks at the very center of the dangerous street, steps even without any hesitation. He knows where he is and what he is doing.

The sky above is cloudless. The world below the beauty of the blue abyss is littered with bullet holes and bodies. Zlatko watches as civilians rush to cross the street and get to safety. They are the smart ones. The hide from the war, or at least they try. But Zlatko has no choice. He cannot hide. Everyone knows who he is; not always where he is, but whom. It is why he is alone in Sniper Alley. No politician guides him with a silver tongue. No soldiers protect him. No, he doesn't need it.

This isn't for pride or for the betterment of himself. He does it because he can, and even if a bullet strikes him, he promises himself that he will continue to walk until he is satisfied with his task. No one will stop him; they fear the snipers hiding in the buildings. They won't stop him.

'PAZI SNAJPER' is scrawled on a wall in spray paint.

He ignores the warnings he sees.

He continues walking, with no fear. He hears someone call out for him to stop; a soldier or a civilian or someone of the like.

He ignores the warnings he hears.

A gunshot rings out, and he feels a searing pain in his neck. He falls to one knee, clasping the wound in his hands. The blood rushes from the wound, but he can still breathe. He inhales shakily. His airway is clear. It is not a shot that will suffocate him, and if he were human, he would bleed out and die, but as a representation, he cannot die. He can fall unconscious for days, perhaps weeks, but he cannot die, and that is what makes him disregard the agony of his wound and the blood pouring from it.

He stands back up, taking his hands away from his neck. He proceeds to walk. Civilians hiding nearby stare in horror. Blood soaks Zlatko's clothing and drips to the ground, splattering the road with red it had already seen. He takes his even steps. He isn't hesitant. He stares ahead, breathing shaky, though only out of pain, and not fear. He knew this would happen. He knew he would be a target.

"Observe through your scope!" He shouts, voice strong and loud. "Observe my life! This is my home! Sarajevo! This is my heart! My blood, my being; who I am! Within the boundaries of Bosnia and Herzegovina; I am the representation of it all, and I will not falter! I am more than this war! I am more than these bodies that define me! I am human in mind, but in body I am timeless! I live for hundreds of years to end here? **No! **I will not end here on this street! I will not end here in this city! Pierce my neck with bullets, pierce my heart with the agony of a defeat!"

He stops and looks around. "Observe with strained eyes through your scope! Feel with your calloused fingertips the trigger! Breathe in the smell of blood and sweat and tears of innocence gone! Fear so cloying you can practically taste it! **Hear my words!**"

"**Welcome to Sarajevo! Welcome to Hell! Welcome to my heart and home! The heart and home that will rise from the ashes! We will not give up, and we will not fade into the pages of a textbook! No, we are more than that which erases us! We are more than bullets and blood! This war will not end us! Here, in Sniper Alley, mark my words! We will not fall!"**

Zlatko falls to one knee, and then to the other. The blood loss is getting to be too much for him to stay conscious much longer. He feels someone grab him as he starts to fall to the ground. He is dragged away from where he was, and shoved into a vehicle. He feels hands on his neck. Some UN soldiers have picked him up and are taking care of him. He wishes not to be in their presence. He wishes not to be wounded; he wants to continue down Sniper Alley.

_Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina_

_Ulica Zmaja od Bosne_

_PAZI SNAJPER_

_PAZI SNAJPER_

_PAZI SNAJPER_

He sees the warning over and over in his head. Maybe he should have listened. But even so, the victims would still be there; more would be hurt, shot at mercilessly, killed by a bullet sent from a hidden location. A window, or perhaps a doorway. Zlatko shakes his head. No, he is not a victim.

He is a message, written in the blood that stains the road of Sniper Alley. He will not die; no, he will refuse to give in. He will refuse until the end of time, or perhaps himself, but in his dying breaths, whenever they may be in the future, he will utter the words he shouted that agonizing day.

**We are more than bullets and blood.**


End file.
